I wrote this for Self Injury Awareness Day, which is this Friday. This poem is probably one of my favourites, although I'm not sure why. Maybe because I understand my own words more here...

xoxo

She watches the blood flow down her arm,
And then pool gently in her palm,
The red liquid, she must leak it,
This is her darkest, best kept secret.
Hidden, covered to prevent the whys,
But still, she's sick of all the lies,
The fear of being discovered haunts her to the core,
And yet, still she hurts herself more and more.
Her brain is filled with excuses, like a book,
And she fakes the innocence that her blade took.
She knows it's bad now, she's so much worse,
It's an addiction now, as well as a curse.
One night, she goes too deep,
And through every bandage the blood does seep.
Panicking now, she lets out a cry,
She honestly does not want to die,
She's yelling for someone to come to her aid,
She only really wants to be saved.